Butterbeer
by iwvs
Summary: Harry knew that something was up when Draco peeled off from his usual cronies in Hogsmeade.


Harry had been looking forward to the first Hogsmeade trip of the year. He'd put a few sickles aside for Honeydukes, and to buy Christmas presents, but he put his plans aside when he saw Malfoy, alone. Harry almost didn't recognize the boy at first, his slim frame not flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, and he found himself staring. He might have even counted Malfoy as attractive, if he weren't so insufferable. Still, alone was suspicious, and Malfoy looked worried to boot. He must have been up to something. Harry explained his suspicions to Ron before he found a quiet corner and slipped on his invisibility cloak to trail the Slytherin.

It was a drab sort of day, the sort that dampened even the giddy enthusiasm of the third years, for whom Hogsmeade was still a novelty. Harry followed Malfoy as the thin-faced boy meandered round the village. He stopped in front of pretty much every shop, staring thoughtfully through the windows before moving on.

Finally, much to Harry's relief, Draco came to the Three Broomsticks, and ordered a pair of butterbeers at the bar before retiring to one of the alcoves. Was he planning on meeting someone? Harry peered in, curiously, and Malfoy slid the spare butterbeer to the other side of the table.

"Sit down, Potter," said Malfoy, to the thin air.

Harry froze. How had he-

"You followed me down three dirt lanes," said Malfoy, quietly. "You've been tracking mud everywhere." Malfoy slid his fingers through his hair. "Just sit down, okay? I want to talk to you."

Harry looked down, and sure enough, a trail of sodden brown footprints marked his path from the bar. He swore under his breath, and as quietly as he could, he slipped into the chair opposite Malfoy and pulled off his cloak.

Malfoy gave him a look of supreme smugness, one very suited for his thin, pointed face. "I knew it," he said. He stared at Harry for a moment, seeming to consider something. His grey eyes gleamed, and he tilted his head a fraction. "How much for the cloak?"

"It's not for sale," growled Harry, tucking the silvery fabric into his pocket. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

Malfoy glanced out at the room. There weren't many students that Harry recognised at the tables, and the grey skies seemed to have served to keep most of the locals at bay too. "This is embarrassing," said Malfoy, dropping his voice. "But I need help."

"Help?" Harry sipped his butterbeer, feeling the familiar warmth flow through him. It was especially nice after so long out in the cold. "With what?"

"Schoolwork," said Malfoy. Harry practically choked on his butterbeer, but Malfoy's face was serious, his eyes wide. "I need a hundred and five percent in three subjects, or my father is having me transferred to Durmstrang."

Harry thought about it. On balance, Malfoy was a pain, and he suspected that without direction, Crabbe and Goyle would just bumble along, being menacing but not at him in particular. And Slytherin wouldn't have a seeker anymore. All in all, his school life would be improved. "Well, good luck in Siberia, I guess," he said, with a shrug.

"Please," Malfoy's hand shot out, and he grabbed Harry's wrist. His voice was still low, but it was strained. "I can't go to Durmstrang. I need those grades."

"And you want me to help with that?" Harry wasn't exactly a stellar student himself. He wanted to say this was one of Malfoy's tricks, but they were usually much more direct, and he'd never heard the boy's voice crack like that before, either. "Isn't there someone in your own house you can ask?"

"You think anyone in Slytherin would help me?"

"Then why should I?" asked Harry, narrowing his eyes.

"The reporter," said Malfoy. "The one that's been publishing those stories about you."

"Rita Skeeter?" said Harry, and glanced over at the bar, in case the journalist had somehow adopted Voldemort's penchant for appearing whenever his name was spoken. Thankfully, no witches in emerald robes had materialised. "What about her?"

"My father knows the owner of the Daily Prophet," said Malfoy, and though his eyes were still earnest, a little smugness crept back onto his face. "All it would take would be a couple of owls to him about how she is violating student privacy… she would never publish a story in the paper again."

Skeeter was certainly a menace- not just to him but to his friends as well. Harry found himself nodding. "Alright," he said. "If you can do that, I'll help you. I'll get Hermione, too, she's good at this kind of thing."

"No! I can't be seen with her."

"You think that just because she's a muggleborn-"

"No," Malfoy shook his head. "My father says I shouldn't associate-"

"Oh," said Harry, feeling stupid. If Lucius Malfoy was prepared to make Draco transfer schools over a few grades, then being friends with muggleborns would be a surefire way to get sent to Siberia. "In secret, then?"

Malfoy looked at him a moment, then nodded. "That's acceptable," he said.

"Then we have a deal," said Harry. He moved to shake hands, but Malfoy's hand was still on his wrist. The Slytherin broke eye contact as he jerked his hand away, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. Harry froze, his heart seeming to stop in his chest. Was it possible that Malfoy liked him? Was this whole thing a ruse? Unlikely. But if Malfoy liked him, he might have passed up some better tutors in favour of Harry.

"We'll arrange something in Potions tomorrow," said Malfoy, still not quite meeting his gaze.

"Uh-huh," said Harry, slipping his invisibility cloak back on. If Malfoy liked him, of course, there was one way to tell for sure.

Completely invisible, Harry stepped in front of Malfoy, leaned in, and kissed him on the lips.

Malfoy gave a sort of startled squeak, and Harry pulled back hurriedly.

"No," hissed Malfoy, his eyes ardent. "Get back here-"

Laughing, Harry silenced him with a second kiss, a deeper one this time, one that pressed him back against the back of his seat. Malfoy's hands found his sides, and Harry's hands found Malfoy's hair, neatly combed and begging to be put in disarray.

Harry broke the kiss, his face hot and his heart pounding. Malfoy looked at him with helpless grey eyes, his mouth slightly open. His blush covered his whole face, a beautiful shade of pink.

"Later, Malfoy." Harry smirked as he pulled the hood of his invisibility cloak back up.

Invisible or not, he felt Malfoy's gaze on his back the whole way out.


End file.
